


Haunt

by Onyxed



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 00:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20537108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyxed/pseuds/Onyxed
Summary: Inspired by the song "Haunt (Demo)" by Bastille.What if instead of killing each other both Arthur and Morgana survive their wounds and become the legendary figures they were actually meant to be?





	Haunt

**Author's Note:**

> This is also a part of my 100 prompts challenge to myself that can be found at my tumblr @ onyxed-fanfic.

The bright unfailing sun and the pale mysterious moon. Quickened silver and bright ever-burning gold. The wheat that flourishes in the fields and the unyielding sea that can both save and damn. Their fates were woven from the start, a tangle of threads that always seemed to lead back to one another. When they were young everyone just assumed she would be his queen. Maybe it would have been better that way, she would have been a good queen- with him. They could have tempered one another, it might have been wonderful. 

The early morning light has spun his hair as bright and golden as the crown that sits on his head. 

It’s become a ritual for him, this waiting. 

His guards no longer attempt to follow him into the woods, to the lake where he waits for the mistress of Avalon, its High Priestess. Not even Gwen begrudges him this, though she doesn’t know the extent of it and he could never bring himself to tell her. He always leaves before dawn, in the darkest edge of morning.

It feels like it’s been more than eight years. It feels like a different life that he dreamed up. A fiction fraying at the edges of his mind. 

She had come out of the mist back then too, fading in and out of his vision. A part of him believed she would kill him that day, finish the job. Instead she fell to her knees at his side and just looked at him, and he at her. He watched as her mouth tightened and her shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to be this person.” She’d said quietly, laying her hand over his wound. Morgana’s whispers had echoed through his dying body, and an amber flame flickered in her eyes. 

Years later she would tell him it was the reality of him dying that had pulled her out of her own hatred. She'd had a vision that he would be great, that he would never be like Uther. And when she had been dying, he was the only one she knew loved her truly. He had fought to bring her home, to save her. She realized she was punishing Arthur for crimes he hadn't committed, but that he'd only loved those who had wronged her. 

As relief flooded through him she gasped and he saw the blood from her own wound begin to pour out of her with new vigor. The last thing he remembered was Merlin calling her name and Morgana scrambling away... toward the lake. For a long time after he had believed her to be dead. He forbade people to speak ill of her in his presence, he believed she had been corrupted against him by evil forces and when Merlin tried to argue Arthur would tell him that in the end she saved him. In the end, that was what mattered. It was all that mattered.

As time passed and there was no more hatred between the druids and the kingdom, some would come to the kingdom speaking of the High Priestess of Avalon. It was Merlin who told him to go to the lake if he wished. That he would meet the priestess there if he wished and that she swore him no harm. Merlin hadn’t warned him, but later recognized Merlin’s reluctance to deliver the message as animosity. He knew the true identity of the High Priestess. 

Arthur watched the mist fold over the lake as he had those years ago when she had come back to him. Morgana emerged from the lake, her soft black curls tucked away haphazardly from her face and a dark green shift hugging her lank frame. The sight of her knocked the wind out of him every time and a sharp pain pierced through his heart. She was so beautiful, she always had been. And all his life he’d been so in love with her, even now and after everything that had passed between them. She walked over to him slowly from the shore, her feet bare and little white flowers scattered in her dark silk curls. Morgana’s expression was soft and radiating a kindness he once thought lost forever.

She raised her hand to his cheek, stroking the scruff at his jawline and up to the hair over his ears. “You’re hair is getting long.” It reminds him that time is passing for him, that those eight years are spreading through him like water. Morgana, however, wasn’t aging. Youth and beauty crowned her in an eternal loveliness he remembered from their adolescence. 

“You can cut it if you like.” He says enjoying her touch, memorizing it.

“No.” She says, laughing delicately. “I like it.” 

Arthur leans his head down to hers. He doesn’t kiss her right away. Instead he savors it. He leans his forehead against hers and her lashes tickle the bridge of his nose as he inhales the scent of her. She smells like water and earth, and he smiles when he smells a hint of spice. “You smell like cinnamon.”

Morgana doesn’t explain, though he's sure it's for some tincture or healing concoction of hers. She’s impatient as she presses her lips to his, capturing his mouth in a way that’s become familiar for them. Arthur kisses her back just a fervently, his hands molding over her curves as he pulls her closer into his body. The shift she wears is thin and indecent by the standards of Camelot. He told her this once and she explained that Avalon is another world. Its always warm and green and eternal. 

She promised to show him one day when he was ready. A day very far from the one they passed through now, she had said.

Morgana is pushing his heavy cloak off his shoulders and fighting with the layers of his clothing. The crisp morning air couldn’t bite at him now as he stripped to nothing, Morgana’s magic was around them. She always promised to keep him safe when he came to her and she’d never failed. Arthur groaned as she undid the laces of his trousers, his mouth still working across her skin, tasting every inch he could reach. He kicked away his pants as he tugged the clasps that pinned her shift in place and the fabric gave way, falling away from her body like liquid. 

Arthur fell to his knees before her naked body. She might be immortal, but the scars of the world could still leave their mark on her. His head was level with her waist and his eyes fall to the scar on her abdomen. The one that had nearly killed her. 

He’d asked her once how she had survived it. Morgana had stared at the sky above them and explained that she’d made it to the lake that day to die. She said she didn’t beg for forgiveness but simply told the goddess that she was sorry for the pain she’d caused, that she’d give anything to take it back. The goddess offered her that chance but warned her that if she ever left Avalon time would come for her and magic would leave her and any good she could do would end at the forest's edge. She was the new heart of Avalon, and a land could not live without its heart. 

Arthur pressed his lips gingerly to the long silvery scar and he felt Morgana lift the circlet of gold from his head. He looked up at her for a moment as she held it carefully on her long delicate fingers. He thought of the day he’d told Merlin that he’d give up his crown for her to see another sunrise. It was as true now as it was then. She gasped as he leaned forward suddenly to press his tongue expertly at the crevice between her legs. One of her hands came down to his shoulder to brace herself as her knees nearly gave out beneath her. Arthur stopped for a moment to lift one of her legs over his shoulder as he remained kneeling, looking up at her as his mouth descended on her again. In one hand she still clutched the thin circlet of his crown against her stomach, her bare breasts heaving over it as her mouth fell open in a silent cry. It ignites something in him and he becomes eager as his tongue laps and sucks at the bundle of nerves settled deep inside her. 

He wants to make her cum, he’s desperate to see the look on her face again after so long. And they’d never done this before. He had wanted to the last time they’d met, but their coupling was quick and rushed. They’d only had what felt like minutes before the mists called her back and she was gone. Arthur’s heart nearly bursts in his chest as she exudes a broken cry and crumbles into him. 

He’s careful with her as he maneuvers her down on the grass with him. He’s hard and aching to bury himself in her, but her skin is flushed and her body shaking as she tries to come down from her high. He wants it to last so he doesn’t mind taking his time, waiting for her to come back to him. Her breathing begins to even and he’s pressing kisses up the line of her jaw and down her neck. Morgana brings her hands to his shoulders, shoving him hard so that he’s on his back in a flash. 

That was his Morgana, the fiery girl who could match him at wits and prowess alike. She kissed his chest and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I want to taste you too.” 

“Morgana, you don-” She cuts him off though with a soul stealing kiss that he can feel in his bones. Once he might’ve wondered if it was the magic that hummed in her veins, now he knew it was only this thing between them. This desperate love that was inextricable and more immortal than she was. 

Morgana kneeled between his legs, admiring the sight of him. There wasn’t an inch of boy left in him. His muscles were firm and strung through him like thick wires. Even his hair had darkened to a burnished gold. He watched her avidly and she noticed how the lines of him had sharpened, it made her distantly sad that she couldn’t have been there to see time take that toll. But that was the price she’d promised to pay, to ensure Arthur’s destiny she sacrificed the chance to be there to live it with him. 

Morgana reached out to his aching cock and he jumped a little under her touch. Her touches are primarily curious. Learning the feel of him and memorizing his reactions as she stroked and gripped him. His eyes were already closed in pleasure before she leaned forward to run her tongue over him as he had with her. She felt his groan vibrate through him as she continued her ministrations. She lets her tongue trace the veins to the tip before closing her lips over the head to suck on him. Arthur’s hands bury themselves in her thick hair and she revels in the slightly salty taste of him. “Morgana… please stop…”

She stops almost immediately, looking up at him worriedly. “What’s wrong?” She asks.

Arthur pulls her up gently toward him. “I want to be inside you.” He says simply as he pulls her back over him, her hips hovering over his. Her body is almost hypersensitive as he guides her body down on him, her hips jerking as he becomes sheathed inside her. Arthur feels her slick muscles jump and contract around his painfully hard cock and he knows he won’t last long. He takes the lead as his hands fall to her full hips, virtually pulling her body down on him as his own body arches upward and back again. 

She catches the rhythm quickly and she’s riding him in earnest, her breasts shaking with each hard thrust. Her hands reach up of their own accord to stroke and massage them as Arthur brings them to another climax. He’s enraptured at the sight of her over him and he wants to live in that moment forever, to never be without her again. A sweat breaks out over his body as it races to catch her and he knows that moment will come sooner than he’s ready for. Soon enough her back arches and he thrusts into her hard one last time, spilling himself inside her. It feels as if he's pouring his very life force into her, and he can't tear his gaze away from her. Morgana, with beautiful face, her hands on her own breasts and him buried inside her as comes down from her climax.

She’s nearly breathless as he pulls her down into his embrace. His arms are tight around her as they lay in the grass but she still manages to reach for his cloak and pull it over them. Her hair tickles his chin as she rests her head on his chest and her fingers trace intricate and nameless little patterns across his chest. He fights sleep, telling her about Camelot and she recounts some of their more fond memories from when they were children. 

He tells her he thinks about her everyday and she tells him gently that she knows. That when she spills something or is particularly happy she still looks for him, as if she might see him smiling back at her. He can feel her cheek become damp against his chest as she tells him how much she misses his smile, even if it was just to mock her.

Arthur lifts a hand to push her hair back over her shoulder, he doesn’t know how to tell her she haunts him. That when he’s with Gwen he tastes her skin and sometimes he craves the happiness he feels with her so much its all he can do not to beat his fists bloody into the walls. That sometimes he thinks about burning his throne and drowning himself in the lake if that means they can be together- in Avalon or whatever else there might be. 

He doesn’t though. Whatever his pain is he knows in his bones that she feels it much more deeply, she blames herself for what they’ve become. Sometimes he thinks he blames her too. Loving her so much that he hates her. 

When their time is spent and she dissolves back into the mist he is haunted by her. Her laugh and her clear bright eyes. He doesn’t know that she watches him leave, through her magic that flows throughout Camelot and time itself. She dreams of him growing old without her, has visions of the legacy he is building. 

He haunts her too.


End file.
